


Out of Time

by Hester (hester4418)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Deja Vu, F/M, Navigational Troubles, Prompt Fic, just another day in the DQ, timeloop, unexplained phenomena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 09:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hester4418/pseuds/Hester
Summary: My entry for the second round of Talsi's "J/C Cutthroat Challenge" (alpha group). The time around, the prompt read "timeloop". So it's just another day in the Delta Quadrant - or is it?





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: _Star Trek: Voyager_ and all its characters belong to Paramount Pictures; no infringement of copyright is intended. The story however belongs to me.

_Captain's log, stardate 51714.5:  
We've enjoyed smooth sailing for the past two weeks, and it's been a welcome relief after everything we've been through at the hands of the Hirogen. Engineering has finally found the time to fix a glitch in the sonic showers on deck five that used to cause headaches for some of that deck's occupants and kept the Doctor busy handing out analgesics. Astrometrics reports no unusual stellar phenomena in our path for at least the next five lightyears, so I'm hoping the respite will continue a little longer, giving everyone time to rest and recharge. _

I lean back in my chair as I finish up the log entry and save the file to the ship's database. My work is finally complete for the day – at least as much as any ship commander's work can ever be complete – and I fondly regard the two neat stacks of padds that I've created on my desk. One contains the completed crew evaluations for the past half year, the other represents my being caught up entirely with departmental reports. For once, my immediate 'to-do' list is empty. Truly, that's an achievement to be proud of.

As if on cue, there's a beeping sound from above.

"Chakotay to the ready room."

I can't help smiling at the way he's phrased his call. "Are you keeping tracks of my whereabouts, Commander?"

"It wasn't hard to guess. Besides, I bribed the computer."

There's a chuckle in his voice and my smile grows wider. "Okay, I'll bite. How do you bribe a computer?"

"Oh, that's easy. You just promise not to harass them with superfluous questions like 'what time is it?' or 'which shift am I assigned to tomorrow?' for the next six hours and you'd be surprised how willing to help they'll be."

I barely manage to stifle most of my laughter. Chakotay seems to be in an exceptionally good mood at the moment, a side of him I love to see – or hear, as the case goes. "I see. Now, what can I do for you?"

"Actually, it's not about what you can do for me, but what I've planned to do for you."

Of course his words could be taken any which way, but my slightly biased mind focuses exclusively at the innuendo he may or may not have intended to convey. He pauses just long enough for the butterflies in my stomach to soar and for the rational part of my mind to insist that he's not flirting with me. Or is he?

My voice sounds breathier than intended when I reply, "And what exactly have you planned for me, Chakotay?"

His warm laughter washes over me. "Oh, I was thinking tomato salad, followed by spaghetti with pesto and finally chocolate fudge brownies."

I bolt upright, all pride at the work I've accomplished vanishing under my shame at having forgotten about his dinner invitation. "Is it that late already? I'll be there in –" In my haste to round the desk, I bump my hip on its edge and the two stacks of padds crash to the deck in a deafening avalanche. I freeze.

"What was that?" Chakotay's voice is suddenly all business, going from flirtatious to concerned in a millisecond.

"Nothing, I just dropped some padds."

"Leave them," he says immediately, stalling the movement of my hands that had already begun to reach out.

"But it'll only take a minute..."

"Leave them," he repeats, the warmth returning to his voice. "They'll still be there tomorrow. I'll have dinner ready in fifteen minutes and expect you to be here by then."

I bite back a reply that might shatter his good mood. He knows I hate lose ends, and leaving a room in a mess just isn't in my nature. But I'm already late for dinner and don't want to keep him waiting, so I quickly acquiesce. "Alright, you win. But you better hope that no one steps in here before I return tomorrow morning. My reputation would be ruined."

He chuckles. "I'll gladly take that risk. See you in a minute. Chakotay out."

I resist the temptation of quickly scooping up the padds anyway and just step over them, feeling like I'm playing hooky. On my way through the bridge to the turbolift I acknowledge the crew members present with quick nods but do not stop. Ensign Kim has commanded gamma shift several times during the past few months, but this is his first time in charge of beta. The dynamics are quite different, but I feel confident that he's up to the challenge. Paris is at the helm, having asked to be assigned to the same rotation. I must say that alpha shift seems almost boring without these two present, but it's also refreshing to see some other people closer in action.

I stop at my quarters just long enough to run a brush through my hair and grab the bottle of wine I'd already replicated this morning. Originally, I'd intended to change out of my uniform for dinner, but I'm getting hungry now, and I know that Chakotay is waiting. I make it to his door within eight minutes of him ending his call.

He blocks the doorway as the panel slides aside, surveying me with mock scrutiny. "You're early."

"I couldn't wait to see you," I deadpan, and my words actually leave him speechless for a second. I grin, feeling giddy, and wondering why _I'm_ suddenly flirting with _him_ now. Maybe his playful mood is rubbing off on me. Or maybe it would be better if I returned to my quarters right away.

But then he laughs and invites me in, taking the bottle from my hands. There's no way I could bow out now without offending him. He's still in uniform as well, albeit minus the jacket, and I take the liberty of tossing mine onto a corner of his couch before taking my seat at the table.

The food is delicious, as always. I don't know how he does it – even if I order the exact same thing from the replicator, it never even tastes remotely like this. When I ask him, he just smiles – that full, dimpled smile of his that _still_ leave me weak-kneed even after almost four years of spending the better part of every day in his presence – and mumbles something about treating the replicator with respect.

"What am I supposed to do?" I counter. "Bribe it, just like you bribed the computer to tell you about my whereabouts? Somehow I don't think that'll get me very far."

"I'm curious," he says, setting his fork aside and leaning towards me, chin resting on his hand. "Is it just the replicator here on Voyager that's giving you trouble, or have you always had a love-hate relationship with its relatives?"

I think back, trying to remember. "There has been the occasional hiccup over the years," I finally say, "but never on this scale. It really does seem like this particular model is out to get me."

"In that case, I'd be happy to offer my services as your replicator operator whenever you require them," he says with a wink.

"Careful," I warn. "I don't think you have any idea just how often I issue late-night orders."

My words only intensify his mirth. "I'm more than willing to take that risk."

There it is. We're flirting again, effortlessly, without consequence. It's all we have in the way of romance, but it's not enough. It never will be. And I'm increasingly unsure how to deal with that knowledge.

"Desert?" he asks, and I snap out of my momentary distraction.

"Sure." While he moves to the replicator, I stack our empty dishes. Once he returns to the table, I gather the lot and take them to the recycler, watching them disappear in a blue haze. Then I turn, and suddenly he's right in front of me, less than an arm's length away, holding up a lone fork.

"You forgot this..."

I stare at the fork in his hand and feel him watching me. My slow exhale seems unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet, and time seems to slow down to the point of standstill. My eyes move up his form, deliberately stalling, meticulously cataloguing the day-worn creases in his uniform, the slight tilt to his rank bar, the hint of a stubbly shadow along his jaw. They reach his mouth, and finally his eyes, and I can see that he's as surprised as I am at the sudden mood shift.

He smiles, I blink, and then he's moving closer. And I'm meeting him half-way.

His lips touch mine with tender shyness, and before I can fully process what's happening, I already find myself closing the gap between us. The full body-contact wipes out any uncertainty, and I dimly hear the fork hitting the deck as Chakotay wraps his arms around me, just as mine fold around him.

We kiss as if there's no tomorrow, as if we're parting lovers who know they'll never see each other again. And then kiss becomes touch, touch becomes moan, and moan becomes lust. And giving in to lust has never felt this right. By the time I push his shirt up over his head, I know there's no going back.

-==/\==-

Later, I lie in his arms, our bodies slowly cooling after the intense love-making we shared. I haven't felt this good in years, and I thank the stars for having guided me safely to this point in time.

"I have a question for you," he murmurs in my ear, his breath tickling my skin.

"Hm?" I purr, entirely content to spend the rest of the night in this exact position, with his hands lightly stroking over my abdomen and occasionally skimming higher, promising more delights to come once we've recovered from the first round.

"If Starfleet decides that you ought to have put me in the brig for the duration of our journey, will I still get paid for services rendered?" He nibbles on my earlobe, causing tiny shivers o run over my skin.

I turn slightly so that I can catch his eager lips, murmuring against them as we shift around for a better angle, hands once again starting to wander over each other's bodies. "I'm sure we'll be able to come to a satisfactory arrangement..."

Suddenly there's a call from the bridge. I jump from the bed and scramble to find my communicator, answering the call stark naked, to the obvious enjoyment of Chakotay. I throw a sock at his face and he claps a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing, but then we both fall silent as we listen to Harry Kim's succinct account of several strange phenomena happening aboard Voyager in the last three hours. Something about withering plants and environmental controls, and the science lab finding no cause.

When he finishes, I think quickly. "Are there any other affected systems?"

"To the best of our knowledge, not this far," he replies immediately, confirming my hope that he's thought to check for other anomalies in ship's operation as well.

"Then keep an eye out for any changes, and otherwise proceed as planned," I tell him.

He acknowledges and signs off, sounding relieved that I apparently don't deem the matter serious enough to come up to the bridge. Still, I know he won't relax and just let the incident slide. In fact, I'd be very surprised if, at the start of alpha shift tomorrow morning, I won't find a detailed report on my desk with a bunch of suggestions about what else we should look out for if the phenomenon occurs again.

Chakotay comes up behind me, gingerly sliding his hands down my arms and putting his chin on my shoulder. "It's not."

"Huh?" I reply, nonplussed.

"Your fault," he elaborates.

"What makes you think–"

"I know you," he interrupts gently but firmly. "You haven't kept me at arm's length for so long purely on a whim. I know protocol was part of the reason, but I'm willing to bet a week's worth of replicator rations that the less rational part of you was afraid of neglecting her duties and causing _something_ to happen, if we ever got involved. An unexplained malfunction, for instance."

I can't deny that there's the tiniest kernel of truth to his statement, much to my own irritation. And I need to convince both of us that I'm not giving in to any superstitious notions, not now, not anytime. "Whatever is causing trouble right now, I'm sure it has nothing to do with... us." There, I've said it. And I really like the sound of it, too. _Us_. "If I'd been sleeping, or reading, or whatever, those plants would still have withered prematurely." I turn in his arms, the feel of his naked body against mine heightening the realization that I don't regret a single thing that's happened tonight. "And I'm sure that there's a perfectly scientific explanation which Harry will probably present to me by morning. In the meantime..."

He doesn't let me finish, his lips on mine cutting off the rest of my sentence. And as he leads me back to his bed, I can't think of any place or time I'd rather be right now.


	2. Thirteen

_Tom Paris' personal log, stardate_ _51714.5:  
I'm on beta shift tonight. Harry's in command for the first time, and when I offered to keep him company on the bridge, he didn't object. B'Elanna took the opportunity of assigning herself to beta as well and leaving Vorik to gain some more experience on alpha. That way we can still spend some time together off-duty. Win-win situation for everyone I'd say!_

Sometimes I really wish I had eyes at the back of my head. Or a rearview mirror attached to the helm console. Anything to be able to watch Harry without being too conspicuous. I know he's nervous – hell, I know I'd be too, beta shift sure is no picnic – but I think he's finally learned not to let it show too much. When we rode up the lift together before shift change, he told me that the worst part for him is actually sitting in the command chair, because the console there is so much more limited than his usual ops console. He just can't _do_ as much as he usually would. Besides, when he's in command, of course someone else is manning ops, so it's not like he could actually work on his regular tasks, anyway.

There's the swish of a door opening and I look up to see the captain exiting the ready room. Her shift's been over for more than three hours, but she had sequestered herself in her office, probably to catch up on paperwork. I'm glad to see that she's finally calling it a night. From the corner of my eye, I notice Harry half rising from the command chair but she waves him back down, just issuing a general "Goodnight, everyone!" as she disappears into the turbo lift.

I sneak another glance at Harry. He's sat back down and pulled up something on the central console. Or maybe he's just pretending. It certainly beats him taking a tour around the bridge every fifteen minutes, looking over shoulders and keeping tabs on what everyone's doing, like he did the first couple times he was in command of gamma shift. Fortunately he's grown beyond the need for that. A good commanding officer needs to know when to trust their people to be doing their jobs.

A beep from the ops station draws everyone's attention. Our newly assigned Ops officer Ensign Debbie Ramsey has only been on bridge duty for two days, so she's still a little nervous. "I'm getting some weird reports from several decks," she says, frowning at the readouts.

"Which decks, and please define what you mean by 'weird'," Harry replies calmly.

"Decks four, six and ten," Ramsey clarifies. "All the reports seem to come from crew quarters. And they all say that their plants suddenly died."

There's silence on the bridge. "Their _plants died_?" I finally say because no one else volunteers, and I don't bother to hide the incredulity I feel.

"That's what they say," Ramsey replies, shrugging helplessly. "And there are more reports coming in, all describing the same phenomenon. Plants in crew quarters are inexplicably drying up."

"Run a level two diagnostic on the environmental control system," Harry decides. "And alert the science lab. Have them take air samples in the affected quarters. Maybe we picked up some kind of bug that's affecting the plants."

"Aye, Sir," comes the ensign's crisp reply.

I wait, but Harry doesn't say anything further. No call for assistance to another department, no threat warning to security. He's not even informing one of our commanding officers of the problem just yet, instead waiting until the first results have been gathered and maybe the picture has become a little clearer. I'm proud of him!

-==/\==-

Two hours later, the helm issues a series of irregular beeps. Odd. We're off course – just barely, mind you, but we shouldn't be off course at all. Not with me at the steering wheel.

"Tom?" Harry prompts and I tell him what's wrong while swiveling around to face him.

He's getting worried now, I can see it. I raise an eyebrow in question but he shakes his head imperceptibly. We're not going to wake anyone over this just yet.

"Ensign Ramsey, has there been an update from the science lab yet?"

"No, Sir," she replies immediately, then looks uncertain. "Should I ask when they'll be done?"

"Let's give them another hour," Harry decides. "What about that diagnostic on the environmental control system?"

"It should be finished by now..." She stabs at her board, visibly getting more nervous.

Harry twists in his seat to be able to look at her. When she seems to be getting nowhere, he rises and walks up the ramp to join her at the ops station.

"I don't understand this," the ensign tells him, pointing at something on the console. "I'm sure I started the diagnostic as soon as you told me to, but there are no results. It's as if it never even ran."

"Another glitch," Harry muses, shooting me a brief look. "Start it over and then we'll see what happens."

"And I'll run a check on the navigational array," I decide, waiting just long enough to see Harry's nod of approval before I turn back to my station and start inputting commands. Suddenly the evening has become interesting. Let's see if we can solve this mystery before gamma shift comes to take over.

-==/\==-

Another hour has gone by without us finding any answers to the current mysteries. A minute ago, Sam Wildman reported that there's nothing unusual in the air samples, and the affected plants also show no signs of tampering. The analysis took so long because they triple checked their results to make sure they hadn't overlooked anything.

Ensign Ramsey's diagnostic of the environmental control system didn't turn up anything out of the ordinary, either. Neither did the one that I ran on the navigational array, or the helm itself. But while a couple of prematurely withering plants on the lower decks _could_ just be coincidence, we're faced with a real problem up here.

Over the past sixty minutes, I've had to correct our course three times. All the corrections were minor, and we wouldn't have gone astray by more than a quarter lightyear within the next twenty-four hours, but this still shouldn't be happening.

I chance another glance over my shoulder. Harry's face is grim. He did his best to try and solve the problem, but now he's at the end of his rope. Higher authorities will have to be informed. Sure enough, he gives me a brief nod and then raises his voice. "Bridge to Captain Janeway."

A few seconds tick by, long enough for me to wonder if we're waking her. Her eventual reply, however, doesn't sound sleepy at all. "What's the matter, Ensign Kim?"

Harry quickly outlines the problems we encountered as well as the steps already taken to narrow down the cause – or causes.

"Understood. I'll be right there." The channel closes.

I'm surprised she didn't ask any follow-up questions, but on the other hand we followed standard procedure to the letter. Anything out of the ordinary is up to her.

I check our course again and then lean back, stifling a yawn. One thing is for certain – beta shift will be working overtime tonight.


	3. Twenty-Nine

_Chakotay's personal log, stardate_ _51714.5:  
The last few days have been rather quiet, or at least as quiet as this corner of the Delta Quadrant is going to get. I finally had some time to box again yesterday, and old Boothby promptly commented on how soft I've become. He got even crankier tonight when I finished my training early, but I have plans that don't include him._

I'm waiting for my dinner companion. I have a suspicion where she might be since she mentioned wanting to catch up on reports earlier. Rather than inquire after her whereabouts, I test my suspicion directly.

"Chakotay to the ready room."

"Are you keeping tracks of my whereabouts, Commander?" There's a smile in her voice, telling me that she doesn't really mind me checking up on her. However, it also sounds like she forget where she was supposed to be at this time.

I decide to give her a few more moments to remember. "It wasn't hard to guess. Besides, I bribed the computer."

"Okay, I'll bite. How do you bribe a computer?"

"Oh, that's easy. You just promise not to harass them with superfluous questions like 'what time is it?' or 'which shift am I assigned to tomorrow?' for the next six hours and you'd be surprised how willing to help they'll be." I can hear that she's trying hard not to laugh, and it makes me smile, too.

"I see. Now, what can I do for you?" Suddenly, she's all business. It never ceases to amaze me how she can move so seamlessly between the different realms of our existence.

But tonight is not about business, and I keep my voice playful as I reply, "Actually, it's not about what you can do for me, but what I've planned to do for you."

There's a second of silence, and then a loud crash like a pile of padds toppling over. I've been witness to that kind of thing before as she likes to stack them high, and in some cases too high. "Oh, Chakotay, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot! I'll be there in a minute, in fact I'm already on my way."

"Aren't you going to pick up those padds?" I'm working hard to bite back a laugh, picturing her flustered state. If she's willing to leave the ready room in a mess, she must feel sorry indeed.

"They'll still be here in the morning, and I'm starved, so I _will_ be right there." The swish of the ready room door is the last sound I hear before she cuts the connection.

I turn slowly to survey the room, making sure everything's ready. The table is set, the wine is breathing, and the replicator has been pre-programmed with tonight's menu, ready to deliver at the touch of a button. There's no special occasion, but I always like to pretend there is when she comes over to my place for dinner. It's our time away from everything else, just the two of us enjoying an evening together.

The door chimes, the sound jostling me from my thoughts. I have to smile, she really made it here in record time.

Our conversation flows easily, as always. When I eventually get our desert, she clears away the used dishes and takes them over to the recycler. I pick up a fork she overlooked and move to hand it to her, but as I come up behind her, I'm suddenly struck by an exceptionally strong bout of déjà vu.

I know without a shadow of a doubt that in just a moment, she's going to kiss me.

Standing rooted to the spot with surprise and indecision, still brandishing the forgotten fork, I hold my breath as she turns. Cocking her head, she frowns as her gaze rests first on my hand, then moves up to my lips, and finally lifts up to my eyes. There's an odd expression on her face, but before I can analyze it we both start to move, coming together as if drawn by magnets. The fork drops to the deck as our bodies collide and our mouths mesh in an unexpectedly passionate first kiss. Only it doesn't feel like a first kiss. It feels like we've done this before, yet I know for a fact that we haven't. Either way, there's no way I'm going to stop now, and by the way she impatiently tucks at my shirt, she certainly seems to share my thoughts.

Together, we shuffle toward my bedroom, shedding clothes as we go. We don't speak, but there can be no doubt that we're in total agreement about what's about to happen. Miraculously, we seem to know exactly how to touch each other, and it's at this point that I stop questioning how I know these things and just enjoy being with her.

-==/\==-

Later, she lies in my arms, her body soft and pliant, her eyes closed in contentment. I've never seen her look this peaceful. Feeling giddy with joy, I can't help blurting out the silliest thing that floats through my mind. "I have a question for you."

"Hm?" she purrs, wiggling against me in a way that almost makes me forget what I was about to say.

"If Starfleet decides that you ought to have put me in the brig for the duration of our journey, will I still get paid for services rendered?"

She turns to kiss me again and I'm more than willing to just forgo the question in favor of more hands-on exploration, but she answers anyway. "I'm sure we'll be able to come to a satisfactory arrangement..."

Before I can reply either by word or by deed, Harry Kim's voice intrudes in our private sanctuary. Always the captain, Kathryn jumps from the bed and tosses clothes left and right in search of her communicator. I sit back and admire the view, which earns me an exasperated look and a sock in my face before she finally finds her badge and answers the call.

Harry's account of what's troubling him is quick and to the point.

Her reply is just as succinct. "Understood. I'll be right there."

As she closes the channel, I move to join her in the middle of the room, lightly wrapping my arms around her. "It's not your fault."

Surprised blue eyes turn to mine. "I know." Those simple words preclude any further discussion, and I hope she really means them. Then she leans up to press a quick kiss against my lips. "Bridge. Now."

We dress quickly and without speaking. Thankfully the corridor is empty when we leave my quarters. Scant moments later, we emerge from the turbolift on the bridge.

Harry quickly vacates the command chair and we settle down. If he's surprised to see me here as well, I can' tell, but Paris shoots me a quick look that could imply trouble later. Maybe I need to remind him that I know about his betting pools and that if any rumors start spreading, I'll personally hold him responsible.

Meanwhile, Harry shares the latest findings. "Just before you arrived, astrometrics called in. Seven found an imbalance in the focal sensor that might explain our problems with the navigational array."

"What's the variance now?" I ask as a means of contributing to the discussion as well as keeping Tom occupied.

He checks the helm. "I made the last course correction five minutes ago, but we're already off-course again by zero-zero-one mark one-three-five. If we continue at this rate, our heading will be off by more than a lightyear this time tomorrow."

When Seven arrives, the five of us reconvene to the briefing room. B'Elanna and Tuvok join us as well and Harry quickly reiterates what we know this far.

"The first reports started coming in about four hours ago. They seemed inconsequential – a couple of withered plants that had still been thriving this afternoon."

"Nothing is ever inconsequential," Seven interrupts.

Harry shoots her an irritated look and continues. "The science lab found nothing wrong with either the plants or the air in the respective rooms. We were still puzzling over that when the helm started acting up."

Paris takes over now. "I had to keep correcting our course every couple of minutes. It's as if Voyager has a mind of her own about where she wants to go. And yet the navigational array checks out just fine."

"Engineering's had some trouble as well tonight," B'Elanna speaks up. "I was just going to put it in my shift report, but... My team had to replace almost a dozen auxiliary relays on several decks within the past few hours. They all show premature aging that resulted in signal routing failures. None of the systems affected were critical, but I was going to have Vorik run extended checks tomorrow to make sure the problem isn't spreading."

"What could be causing all this?" All eyes turn towards the woman at the head of the table. "Maybe we should go with the presumption that these problems are related, however unlikely that may seem," she continues, looking at each of us in turn.

"Seven, Ensign Kim said you found a possible cause for the navigational anomaly?" I say, turning towards the former Borg drone.

"I have a theory," Seven replies, seeming unusually reluctant to share her findings.

"Let's hear it," I encourage her.

"The variance rate suggests that the navigational array did not malfunction, but it was trying to force Voyager into a direction that the ship was not supposed to take until several hours from now."

Blank stares follow Seven's words. I'm glad that I don't seem to be the only one having trouble following her reasoning.

"Explain," Kathryn prompts her.

"I believe that all the problems reported can be most likely be traced back to an unusual accumulation of –"

The rest of Seven's sentence is lost in a white flash that consumes our existence.


	4. Forty-Seven

_Chief Engineer's log, stardate_ _51714.8:  
I'd been looking forward to a change of pace on beta shift, but it wasn't to be. The problems started not long after I reported for duty, and there's been no respite since. Over the past few hours, we've had to replace a dozen auxiliary relays, plus one main signal distribution node. And what's more, I have the distinct feeling that we already replaced most of these components not too long ago, yet there's no record of anything like that anywhere. When I informed the bridge, Harry told me that other departments are reporting similar problems, yet there doesn't seem to be a tangible connection between the incidents. _

I'm on my way to astrometrics to follow up on a message from Seven of Nine who claimed she found something that might have some bearing on the different problems we've been facing tonight. That at least seems new, a welcome change to the constant feeling of reliving a dream that I've had all day. Harry is joining us as well. Depending on the outcome of our meeting, we might have to eventually wake the captain, even though I know that Harry would prefer if we could solve this mystery by ourselves. I do understand his position – he wants to prove himself as capable of more than manning ops and occasionally commanding the night shift. So I hope that Seven's theory is sound.

We arrive at the same time, Harry from one end of the corridor and I from the other. Seven greets us with a court nod.

"So, what have you got, Seven?” he gets right to the point.

She calls up a three-dimensional image of the region of space we're currently passing through. "According to ship's logs, the first incident was reported at 1814 hours tonight. At that time, Voyager was here.” She points, and a miniature Voyager materializes among the stars and begins to slowly move forward. "The need for course corrections arose shortly thereafter and increased as our journey progressed.”

A series of red dots now highlights Voyager's course, forming a graceful arc. I squint, unsure if I'm seeing right. "Should our course really be curved like that?”

Before Harry can reply, Seven adds a straight blue line to the display. "This is the course we should have been following. And what's more, it appears that Lieutenant Paris' course corrections increased the variance instead of alleviating it.”

"Impossible,” I object at once. "Tom would never make a mistake like that.”

"I never implied that he did,” Seven replies evenly. "Since a mistake of that magnitude seemed unlikely, I began looking for alternative factors that might have affected the navigational array.”

"The strange thing is that when we ran a diagnostic, there was no indication of the array malfunctioning,” Harry adds and I nod, having double-checked the diagnostics from engineering when the first cycle found no aberrations.

"If my findings are correct, the array is working within acceptable parameters,” Seven states. "It was simply led to believe that the ship was in a place where it was not.”

Now I'm completely confused. "What are you saying?”

The ex-Borg taps a series of buttons on her console, and suddenly the space surrounding Voyager lights up in bright pink. It looks like a nebula swallowed the ship, with particularly dense concentrations of _something_ coating the hull.

"What is _that_?” Harry echoes my thought. "And why didn't it show up on any of our sensor sweeps?”

"The particles in question are usually so rare that a standard scan configuration doesn't cover them,” Seven explains. "It appears that Voyager stumbled upon a naturally occurring, hyper-dense cloud of chroniton particles.”

"Chronitons?” I repeat, trying to wrap my mind around the implications of Seven's discovery. "But why would they affect navigation?”

"As you can see, the particles have accumulated along Voyager's hull. My theory is that the heavy concentration of chronitons caused several areas and key systems to enter a state of partial temporal flux. In case of the navigational array, this would mean that the computer calculated that at least part of the ship was already further along its course than it actually was. The course deviations were merely an attempt by the main computer to bring the different parts back into alignment.”

"Actually, that could also explain the prematurely withering plants,” Harry says slowly. "If they happened to be in areas of the ship that were more heavily affected than others, time would be passing more quickly there, causing them to dry out faster than usual.”

"Precisely,” Seven nods.

"So we need to clean the hull,” I conclude.

Again, Seven nods. "That would appear to be the most prudent course of action. However, there is one additional complication.”

Harry groans. "What now?”

"My analysis of the particle cloud suggests that the contamination of Voyager's hull is far greater than should be expected after a single pass through the phenomenon.”

Something in the way she phrased her statement sets off warning bells in my mind. "You mean to say that we've flown through this cloud _several_ times? And that each time, the particle concentration on the hull increases?” Suddenly, realization slams into me, the déjà vus and premonitions I've experienced all day falling into place. "Are you saying that we're caught in a timeloop, traversing the same region of space over and over?”

"That would appear to be the case. Based on that assumption, I have also calculated how many loops we've already gone through.”

"How many?” I ask, my throat going dry.

Seven looks me straight in the eye. "Approximately forty-seven.”

-==/\==-

It's 2230 hours now, a mere fifteen minutes after Harry and I left astrometrics, and Seven just finished briefing the command team. They both look slightly disheveled, as if they'd already settled down for the night and had to throw on their uniforms in a hurry. Suddenly it hits me – didn't Chakotay say this afternoon that they were getting together for dinner? I wonder...

"I get what you're saying, and I must say your theory sounds likely, but there's one thing I don't understand,” the object of my scrutiny says.

"Yes, Commander?” Seven inquires politely.

"What triggers the loop? What makes us go back to pass through the cloud again? Why can't we simply fly out at the other end?” Chakotay asks.

The holoimager in the briefing room displays the same starfield that we studied earlier, the pink cloud hovering ominously in the center.

Harry sighs. "That is actually the one thing we haven't been able to figure out yet. It could be that there are some other elements in the cloud that react with the chronitons. Or something we do, a particular scan maybe, sets them off. All we know is that the jumps back through time keep happening and have been for some time. And since the chroniton contamination keeps building up, the cycle appears to get shorter every time.” He sits up straighter. "By our estimation, we only have maybe a dozen loops left before they'll get so short that we won't have time to find out what's happening _and_ react accordingly. And that's assuming that because the problems keep getting worse, we're getting quicker at identifying them.”

"Then we need to act fast,” the captain decides, speaking up for the first time since the meeting began. "How can we get those particles off the hull?”

"We could try modifying the treatment the Doctor used on Kes a couple of months ago,” I suggest, having thought about how exactly to do that for the past few minutes.

"”You mean by using anti-chronitons? But how would we distribute them along the hull?”

I open my mouth to explain, but the words are ripped from my lips as we're whisked back in time once again.


	5. Sixty-Three

_Kathryn Janeway's personal log, stardate 51714.4:  
The past few hours have been very strange. Everything was fine until the end of my shift, when I decided to catch up on reports. I had at least a dozen padds lined up, but when I went through them, I found that I already knew what they contained. None of them had been approved yet, so I _ know _I hadn't read them yet, but still I knew every single word. I finally decided to just leave them and went back to my quarters, hoping that a bath would relax me. And it did, but the relief was only temporary. As soon as I was dozing off in the tub, I started dreaming about my upcoming dinner with Chakotay. The dreams were… vivid. Explicit. Exciting. And they were so full of detail that they appeared more like a memory than an actual dream. I know for a fact that I've never kissed him, and yet I feel that I know exactly how his lips would feel on mine, how he would crush my body against his if we ever kissed, and how he would moan in pleasure if I ran my hands down his bare chest. And that's only the beginning of my newfound 'knowledge'…_

My doorchime rings, interrupting my recording. I pause the log and call, "Come in,” and am surprised to find B'Elanna Torres, Harry Kim, and Seven of Nine on my doorstep. All three of them appear agitated, even Seven, and it takes a few moments until I can begin to make sense of the rushed explanations they need to run by me before taking further action.

Their story sounds fantastic, and yet I can see the pieces fall into place, explaining how I knew those reports without ever having read them before. Whether the phenomenon also explains my dreams about Chakotay I don't want to examine right now. The threesome before me have a plan, hurriedly put together it seems, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I give my approval without demanding more in-depth explanations, trusting their assurances that time is of the essence. They depart while I stop at Chakotay's door and ring the chime.

The door slides aside and he playfully blocks the way, smiling down on me. "You're early."

"Grab your jacket," I tell him. "We're needed on the bridge."

His smile vanishes instantly, being replaced by an expression of concern. On our way to the turbolift I quickly fill him in on the little I know.

"We're caught in a timeloop?" he asks as we step into the lift and I state our destination.

"Apparently so," I confirm. "And by Seven's best estimate, we're currently experiencing the sixtieth loop, or thereabouts."

He looks at me strangely. "That would explain..." His voice trails off and he averts his eyes, but I think I see a hint of color rising in his face.

I reach up and place my palm against his cheek, turning his face back to mine. "Yes, it would," I say softly.

It takes him a moment to process my meaning, but then his eyes light up and he smiles, his hand coming up to warmly cover mine.

The moment is short-lived as we arrive on the bridge and I call for a report as soon as we've stepped out of the lift.

"We're currently holding position as per Seven of Nine's recommendation," Paris fills me in, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder.

I remember that part from the abbreviated explanation I received in my quarters and nod, retroactively approving that course of action. The next couple of minutes are filled with calls to different departments, interspersed with updates by Seven, Harry, and B'Elanna. It seems like they've enlisted the help of half the ship to make their plan work, and I'm proud to see Harry taking the initiative. This shift is under his command, after all.

Chakotay looks a little lost in all the flurry. He's a brilliant first officer, but he'd never have made it on the science track. His strengths lie elsewhere, and that's one of the reasons why we complement each other so well. I finally take pity on him and lean across our shared console, explaining to him in hushed tones how engineering is preparing to emit a burst of anti-chronitons through the deflector dish in the hopes of creating a sort of anti-chroniton 'curtain' in front of Voyager that we'll then have to fly through while simultaneously depolarizing the ship's hull. In theory, that procedure should flush most if not all of the built-up particles from the hull and will allow us to proceed to the far end of the chroniton cloud without triggering another jump back through time. Once we're clear of the cloud, we'll have to repeat the procedure, and then the danger should be past. And if it doesn't work... Well, I guess then we'll find ourselves back here sooner rather than later.

"Kim to the bridge," Harry's voice filters from the overhead speakers. "We're ready down here."

"On your mark, Mister Kim," I tell him. "This is your call."

Chakotay smiles approvingly. He knows I'm not giving up control easily, but we both know that the longer our journey takes, the more need we'll have for cross-training officers and entrusting more responsibility to the members of the senior staff.

"We'll need a two-second burst of quarter-impulse power," Harry instructs. "Heading zero-one-one mark seven-one-five."

Tom's fingers fly over his console. "Course laid in and ready to execute on your mark."

B'Elanna's voice joins Harry's. "I'm initiating the deflector burst... now."

I grip the arms of my chair and see Chakotay doing the same. Several seconds tick by.

"Mark!" Harry suddenly commands, and Tom reacts instantly.

Voyager leaps forward but just as quickly stops dead again, a tremor running through the whole ship. The forward view screen lights up with a burst of static. When the image slowly clears again, I realize that my hands are still frozen in a painful grip and I consciously relax my fingers, flexing them to restore normal circulation.

Chakotay looks around. "Did it work?"

"Affirmative," Seven's voice comes over the comm. "Lieutenant Paris, proceed along this same vector for another hundred thousand kilometers, then come to a full stop. Do not exceed one quarter impulse speed."

"Do it, Tom," I say before Paris can ask for confirmation.

He nods without turning. "Yes, Ma'am."

I smile. If ever there was an occasion that qualified as crunch time, now is it.

-==/\==-

Half an hour later, phase two of the 'chroniton cleaning plan' is executed. Again, everything goes without a hitch. I can hear Harry's immense relief in his voice when he confirms that all chroniton particles have been flushed from the ship's hull and that we can safely resume our course for home.

When he returns to the bridge shortly afterwards, I clap him on the shoulder. "Well done, Mister Kim. I see I made the perfect judgement call when I put you in command of beta shift tonight."

He grins modestly. "Finding the solution was mostly Seven's doing. B'Elanna and I just helped put the plan in motion."

"You all did very well tonight," I confirm. "And I believe you have another couple of hours before your shift will be over."

Chakotay follows my lead as I once again bid the bridge crew goodnight and move up the ramp to the turbolift. Just before the closing door cuts off our view, I see Harry settling down into the command chair, appearing totally at ease. The sight makes me smile.

I turn to Chakotay. "All this excitement has made me hungry. Are we still on for dinner?"

He laughs. "I had just set the table when you showed up. It would be a shame to let all that preparation go to waste."

"Definitely," I agree.

Only a few minutes later we sit across from each other, steaming plates between us, and hungrily dig into our food. Unbidden, my thoughts return to the 'dream' I had earlier. It started out just like this, dinner in Chakotay's quarters, and even the food is exactly the same as I remember. Given all that's happened tonight, I'm willing to believe that we indeed experienced the same evening before, _many_ times over, and that the constant repetition left residual traces that also caused my insistent feelings of déjà vu.

I gradually become aware of Chakotay watching me and focus my attention on him. "What?"

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, setting his fork aside even though his plate is only half empty.

"Us," I answer truthfully and find myself captivated by how his eyes light up, just like earlier in the turbolift.

"Given what we learned tonight, would you mind... skipping ahead to desert?" At first I'm surprised by his bold question, but then I realize that it was I who opened the door to this possibility, both in the lift and again just a moment ago. He's just following my lead. And if he's had 'dreams' that were only half as explicit as mine, I have nothing to hide from him anymore, anyway.

"I believe you were going to offer me some chocolate fudge brownies," I say playfully, confirming for both of us just what is about to happen, and has happened before.

"That was the original plan." He rises and moves to my side, pulling me up and into his arms. "However, I've thought of something better."

There's no shyness between us as we smile at each other and let our eyes drift shut, lips finding their counterparts with unerring precision. We kiss, and it feels as if we've done this countless times before, effortlessly moving in total synch and without any of the awkwardness of first-time lovers. My right hand rises to curl around his neck, coaxing him closer, deepening the kiss. My body molds against his, delighting at his response, and as one we slowly drift toward Chakotay's bedroom. Although we've never made love before, we know exactly where and how to touch, taking our sweet time undressing each other, nipping and tasting along the way.

If there's ever been a time that I want to savor, it's now. On the one hand, it feels strange that we already know so much about each other while physically experiencing the sensations for the very first time. Somewhere in the back of my mind it occurs to me that I should feel cheated, that we should have had the opportunity to discover each other without any predefined knowledge, should be allowed to learn from each other and find a few surprises along the way. On the other hand, we've always been close, even without the physical connection, and skipping the awkward newness of friends-turned-lovers will allow us to strengthen our new bond much more quickly, without any of the doubts, insecurities and reservations we – and especially I – might have had, and surely had at some point in time. Knowing that the concept of 'us' is strong enough to have been repeated over so many iterations gives me the liberty of just letting go, and I eagerly await the new day that will finally be allowed to happen.

-==/ The End. \==-


End file.
